


Sometimes Quiet is Violent

by just_one_day



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Happy Ending, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Phan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_day/pseuds/just_one_day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dan has an existential crisis, will Phil be there to help him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Quiet is Violent

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ever fanfiction I've posted online, so some feedback would be very much appreciated! <3  
> The title is from Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots.

As Dan laid there, he thought about the amount of time he'd been there—whether it was seconds, minutes or hours, he couldn't remember. Time seemed to blur together until the idea itself was a mere thought mixing with other thoughts in his head, like molten lead, searing his consciousness until his mind was dull and motionless and so was he. An empty, hopeless body without purpose, without meaning, without reason to exist.

 _You should just end it_ , suggested a small part of him, _as soon as you get up again_. But when would that be? And what would be the point of doing _anything at all?_ His mind taunted him, trying to coax a reaction from him. Anything. It was futile, though. There was no purpose, no reason, no _meaning_. He could have ceased to exist years ago and the world would have kept spinning; people would still smile and laugh. Life would still begin. The people who cared about him would move on soon enough. The world would still be happy.

 _Happy,_ he thought bitterly. _Whatever that's like._

 

When Dan woke up, he was fine.

Just like on any other regular day, he woke up late: he looked at his phone and noticed that it was almost noon. After lounging in bed for a minute or two (or thirty...oops), he dragged himself out of bed. He knocked on his room-mate’s door and called, “Morning, Phil!” When he got no response, he shrugged—it was normal for him to be asleep at this time, seeing as they were both such night owls—and headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

Then it started.

Some stupid, insignificant, horrible thought hit him, effectively pushing him down a spiral of darkness: his life—what he was doing right now, and every other day of his life—it was all so damn normal. So unbearably _mundane_ , regular, uninteresting...meaningless. Why wasn't he doing anything with his life? What was it all for?

The mug filled with coffee shook as his grip on it tightened, previously soft, controlled breaths now coming out in short, heavy pants and an accelerating heartbeat that soon became all he could hear, taunting him with how utterly fucking _weak_ he was. _Pathetic_. He dropped the mug, the sound of shattering and the slight numbing pain of hot liquid on his feet only faintly registering in the back of his mind as he realised who the mug belonged to: Phil.

He felt a sudden pang of guilt for breaking his friend's mug, and shakily bent down to attempt to clean up the mess he made. His hands shook and as he fumbled with the broken pieces, cursing himself. _Stupid, clumsy, idiot_. The shaking of his hands caused him to clutch a piece too tightly and the sharp edge dug into his palm, drawing blood. He hissed at the sting it brought, staring at the blood flowing out of his palm, such an angry red it was like his body, too, was blaming him. He gave up, dropping the pieces back on the ground after he cut his palm the second time, cradling it in his other hand. _Stupid. Can't even clean up his own fucking mess. Why does Phil even bother with you?_

Phil. _Phil_ became a mantra running through his mind: Phil, Phil, Phil, as he thought of his friend's smile, laugh and crystal blue eyes bright enough to light up any room he entered; Phil, Phil, as Dan recalled the last time he'd broken down like this, when Phil had held on to him tightly, whispering reassurances and comforting words into his ear whilst gently rubbing his hands through his hair; Phil and his bright presence and encouragement and support. _Phil_.

He would help. He always did. He always knew what to do. He never failed to calm him down, even if it took hours, or even days, his patience never ran out. Dan could always find comfort in Phil.

Whilst standing up, he managed to cut his palm once again on the broken glass. He hissed, but felt relieved for the distraction it brought. He disregarded the mess he made, stumbling over to the room his friend assured him he could enter any time—and found it empty.

 _Oh,_ he thought, remembering that Phil was out today; left early, without a goodbye, not wanting to wake Dan up. _You could never bother me_ , Dan thought to himself, not realising that his cheeks were wet, tears dripping down his chin, his mind dizzy because _damn it Phil, where are you when I need you?_ He thought distantly, barely able to conjure up the thought within his dizzy mind. He immediately felt ashamed at the thought: how could he be so _selfish_?! In that moment, he felt more pathetic than ever. It was a miserable cycle he couldn't break: beating himself down mentally for being so _pitiful_ , thus making himself feel even worse.

With tear-filled eyes, he looked over to Phil's bed: messy and unmade, his glasses resting on the mattress. Glancing around the very lived-in room, Dan was suddenly overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions; seeking comfort, he crawled onto Phil's bed, wishing he could just hide here forever, both from the outside world and his mind—to hide from prying eyes and expectations and the disappointment of others. He curled up, attempting to make himself as small as possible, and closed his eyes, but the tears still flowed. Soon, he could feel the mattress beneath his head become damp. He couldn't find it in him to care, though. _Why should I?_ He thought to himself. What would that change? It's not like he could find it in himself to move, or do anything right now, really.

 

 

At some point, he had rolled onto his back so he now faced a white ceiling as ordinary as him and as blank as his mind. His eyes stung but he couldn't gather up enough motivation to close them, even for a second.

Empty. Nothing. Confused. _Tired_.

And It _hurt_. It hurt so much to feel like something was dreadfully wrong with him, but not knowing what it was or where to even begin guessing what the fuck was going on. It hurt like a bitch that all he wanted to do was _scream_ his lungs out that _hello I'm not okay_ but not having the strength or confidence, and so he just keeps reassuring himself that _I'll be fine soon anyway so there's no need to worry anyone_. It hurt being the only one who knew that those reassurances were nothing but empty and insincere and _lies_ because deep down he knew that _no he's not fine,_ he's not fine at all and will probably never be anything close to it.

 

It seemed like days later when Dan finally heard the apartment door open and shut. If he had any motivation to act upon the flood of relief washing over him, perhaps he would have signalled his presence; he might have even gotten up to hug Phil, to tell him he's not okay, to ask for help. _If_ he had any motivation, _if_ the sudden ease he felt wasn't being drowned out by the feeling of overbearing desolation constant in his gut.

Footsteps echoed through each room as Phil searched for him. “Dan?” he inquired once Dan heard him look into his bedroom, finding it empty. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his room-mate’s bedroom door slowly open to reveal Phil stood there, probably with a concerned face. Dan heard Phil's breathing hitch and a small thump as he dropped something. “Dan...” he said once again, though this time quieter, more worried. _See?_ _This is what you do to people,_ a voice goaded him, _all you do is make them feel worried and upset._ Dan's stomach twisted painfully. _Disgusting._

The words bounced around in his head so loudly he didn't notice Phil approaching until the bed dipped beside him. Phil laid down on his back, their shoulders almost brushing. Dan could faintly feel his body warmth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly as if he was afraid of scaring him off.

Dan tried to push out a blunt “No,” but he was so weary he could only form an indistinct grunt.

He saw Phil faintly nod before whispering, “Okay.” The raven haired boy shifted closer, touching their shoulders together, offering his warmth to the other man as comfort.

The only sounds were of soft breathing and the ever-present, noisy London traffic as they fell into an easy silence. However, this time, Dan welcomed the silence: instead of dark words of self hatred in his mind piercing the silence, deafening him, the warm solidarity of his friend was like an anchor, keeping him tethered to this world, stopping him from drowning in his own mind, saving him.

After some time, Dan turned his head to his companion. Phil was facing the ceiling, eyes now closed. Dan admired him: the way his chest rose and fell with every breath he took, the way his downcast eyelashes nearly brushed against his pale cheeks, the way his raven black hair fell over his forehead, messy from the outside wind. As Dan continued to stare, an unbidden thought surfaced in his mind: _he's gorgeous_.

Dan pushed the thought away. He's seen enough of Phil to know that he thought that often (too often for it to be considered normal), so he simply pushed the thought away, hating himself for it. How could he think it? They were _friends_ , and besides, Phil would never feel the same. He only treated Dan so nicely because that's the kind of person Phil is. _It has nothing to do with me_.

 _But I still love him_ , his conscience whispered. _He feels nothing for me but I still love him._

As if on cue, Phil's head turned and his eyes opened, falling upon Dan's slightly confused and somewhat panicked face. A concerned look washed over Phil's face—Dan wanted nothing more than to ease his worry, to smooth out the furrow in his friend's brow—and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

And that's when Dan's mind helpfully alerted him to their closeness. Their faces lay mere inches apart, and Dan could feel Phil's soft breaths collide against his skin, sending delightful chills down his spine. Dan couldn't help it: his eyes flickered down to Phil's soft pink, slightly chapped lips. He briefly wondered how it would feel to kiss them, before quickly remembering that Phil was looking at him, too, and he didn't want to be caught staring. He quickly glanced away, up to the dark haired man's endless crystal blue eyes and—good _lord_ , they were focused on Dan's lips.

Dan's breathing hitched. _What?_ So many months of denial, but now here it was: evidence that, just maybe, Phil might just feel _something_ more than friendship for him. Dan's brain was torn in between wanting to believe it and not wanting to get his hopes up for nothing. He knew damn well what that was like, and it wasn't easy.

But, if his heart could bare it, he noticed Phil slowly edging closer. _I'll be damned if I try to kiss him,_ he idly thought, _but I'm already screwed, so why not?_

He could barely believe he was actually thinking it, and couldn't understand where the burst of confidence was coming from. He decided it was better not to think about it too much, and closed the distance, moulding his lips to Phil's.

The first thing to register in his mind was how _soft_ Phil's lips were; for a second, he forgot how to breathe. The second thing was how warm he felt when he was this close to Phil, flowers blooming in his chest, pushing the darkness within him back. Then Phil gently grabbed the back of his head, turning what was previously an awkward and sweet kiss into an intense, mind-blowing one, and the flowers in his chest flourished into butterflies harshly batting at his insides, but he found the feeling pleasant, and returned Phil's kisses with equal amounts of fervour. Their noses brushed together and now Phil's hand was running through Dan's hair, giving the younger chills that made him shudder.

The older boy's free hand snaked around Dan's back, tugging him to straddle Phil. Dan rested his elbows on either side of Phil's face, gripping his hair in both hands, making the other man let out a breathy groan. This made Dan's movement's stutter: he accidentally pressed his hips against Phil's, and the jolt of pleasure coursing through him tugged him out of his haze and back into his body. He pulled away, staring with wide eyes down at Phil, dishevelled, panting heavily, gazing up at Dan with surprise, as if he, too, only just noticed what was going on.

A feeling Dan had felt earlier on came back: shame. Though this time, it was because he had let himself get carried away, let himself believe that his feelings were mutual. He rolled off of his friend's (could he even call Phil that any more?) body, resuming his previous position of staring at the ceiling and thinking of all the ways he was a disappointment. A lump grew in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

“I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I just...felt like I wanted to? I—I'm so sorry, please don't hate me, I know I made a mistake—I—” he pathetically tried, and failed. He heaved a shaky sigh, terrified to look over at Phil, deciding not to.

Phil swallowed and let out a strained, breathy laugh. “Why would I hate you?” he asked, and turned to look at his companion. If Phil looked like that—mussed up hair, chest rising and falling quickly, bruised lips—Dan didn't really want to think about how _he_ probably looked right now: surprised, scared, embarrassed.

He frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked, sitting up.

Phil followed. “I could never hate you. I'm, uh, well, I'm glad that this happened,” he quietly confessed with a shy, awkward, hopeful smile and if Dan's heart hadn't exploded yet, it definitely did just then.

His mouth opened, forming into a perfect 'o' shape. His face heated up in shock and giddiness, and he looked down into his lap, attempting to hide a smile.

He figured that if Phil confessed, he should, too, so he tried: “Oh. Well, uh, me too, I guess. I was just scared you didn't feel the same way,”

Phil laughed a little, smiling brightly at him, and opened his arms. “Come here,” he invited gently. Dan felt like a child, crawling into his arms, but as Phil wrapped his arms around him and laid back, Dan realised how comfortable this was. Phil's head rested high on the pillows, and one of his arms was slowly and gently running up and down Dan's back as the younger boy rested half on top of him, his heart still galloping away in his chest. “Is this okay?” the older boy asked softly, looking down at Dan with such a warm expression that his heart melted. He nodded and brought his hand up to Phil's chest, drawing random patterns on the surface of his t-shirt.

Feeling the need to say something, Dan cleared his throat. “I guess, um,” he started, feeling the other's gaze on him, “I guess I should say thank you. For everything. You always help me through everything and I just—I just feel like such an annoyance sometimes—”

“Shut up, Dan,” Phil cut him off, chuckling. Dan felt his chest vibrate with it. “You could never be an annoyance. I don't help you because I feel like I should. I _want_ to help you through everything,”

Surprised, Dan huffed out a laugh, returning, “well, I'm still really grateful, and I just wanted you to know that.” Phil mumbled something along the lines of _you don't need to thank me_ but Dan didn't respond because he was already drifting off because of their warm, comfortable position.

Floating between the waking world and his dreams, Dan wondered what it was he did in a past life to deserve this. He also briefly wondered why they hadn't done this sooner: everything was so _peaceful_ and _quiet_. For a while, the taunting in his head completely disappeared.

For once, he was completely _happy_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed!  
> Once again, I would be extremely grateful if you let me know what you think <3 xx


End file.
